Magical Deductions
by PaperPrince
Summary: In which Sherlock and Watson are both wizards, a chance meeting on platform 9 and 3/4. Friendship fic! No actual mentions of Harry and pals but its their universe. First time writing both fandoms.


The platform is bustling with idiots busily scrambling about perfectly ignorant of the fact he can read all there is to know about his pathetic lives. Not that he is really interested in knowing whose cheating on whom or any of that tripe, but he's got nothing better to do for Mycroft has confiscated his wand being the snot nosed prefect he is. "Bored, bored, boring" thinks Sherlock as he lazily glances about the station as he silently hopes this new school will be everything mummy promised it would be.

Someone yells in the distance causing Sherlock to turn just in time to find himself being assaulted by a small but energetic dog. Startled Sherlock falls brining the dog down with him. It licks his face, getting slobber all over his new uniform but Sherlock doesn't mind, at least he's not bored any more.

It doesn't take long for the dogs owner to catch up to them, a short boy with sandy blond hair. Sherlock glares at the boy but without malice and says dryly "This is your dog I take it." Slightly out of breath the boy just nods in reply and pulls the dog off of him easily, as if used to owning a dog that doesn't listen to him. Having regained control of the dog the boy extends a hand to Sherlock and helps him up. The boy smiles at him, obviously worried that Sherlock may be in shock.

"John Watson" the boy says sticking out his hand again. Remembering his earlier promise to his brother Sherlock takes it.

"Sherlock Holmes, fourth year" Replies Sherlock as he stares at the boy in front of him, examining. John blushes as red as his red and gold scarf, Gryffindor then, and it becomes apparent to Sherlock that he has failed to give the other boy his hand back. He lets go of it quickly and feels his ears reddening.

"Sorry about Gladstone" says John grabbing the dog's lead tightly in one hand and turning to go back to where his parents, stand talking to another couple. From this distance Sherlock can see the tired lines in the father's face and the enchantment in the mother's hair. Sherlock vaguely recalls the flash of identical blue eyes turning in his direction to watch the commotion. The two of them remain chatting though, their long wizard robes impeccable .

"Don't worry about it replies Sherlock "He is evidently excited to be away from St. Mungo's." The words slip out from Sherlock's mouth before his brain can stop himself. John freezes on the spot and Sherlock briefly wonders if he's going to be punched. His eyes dart to the wand clenched tightly in John's other hand. Alder wood with a phoenix feather core, 10 inches, firm but not unyielding slightly chipped. Interesting.

"Who told you?" Asks John his voice oddly quiet compared to the racket going on around him. Sherlock looks at him and snorts in surprise, "John seems genuinely interested" he thinks studying the other boy's face.

"Your robes are old but form fitting and unaltered, implying they are not hand me downs but rather you haven't grown. The old robes suggests your older then you look, which is 12 by the way.

You're terribly small considering the size of your parents, second cousins if I'm not mistaken, which explains the stunted growth, I take it your on anti-shrinkage pills. " Sherlock pauses briefly to breath as John watches him silently, his head bobbing in agreement. "Dogs are not normally allowed, but you have special permission. I can see a bit of parchment sticking out of your pocket, he's not actually trained to be of assistance but your mother got him for you and over the summer you've become too attached to leave him behind."

"The wood of your wand indicates you were born March 31st... and I could go on but the train is going to leave in approximately 2 and a half minutes, whether we are on it or not." Says Sherlock looking at John with sharp knowing eyes.

"Bloody hell, your brilliant! Come on then." Says John pulling the two of them and Gladstone towards the train with barely a wave goodbye towards his parents who in turn seem to have forgotten about him.

It is only later in the compartment sitting next to John, dog at his feet that Sherlock realises he has already made a friend and its not even supper time. How extraordinary.


End file.
